1 :Treat His Scars?

Ivy's Pov

"You’re probably wondering how a lawyer like me ended up in a place like this ;a mansion I don’t even recognize."

"My name is Ivy Smith, and this is where my story takes a turns and twist I never saw coming."

"I came to New York hoping for a fresh start, thinking it would be the place where everything finally fell into place and my dream would finally come to life."

"Little did I know, I was walking straight into the nightmare I never saw coming."

I left my small town, thinking New York would be my chance to finally land a job as a lawyer. I got here, sure. But did I get the job? Nope. And my bank account? Yeah, it's empty.

And my useless brother's debt was still hanging over me unpaid. I knew I had to do something.

Then I stumbled upon an ad an heir to a wealthy family needed a hired bride for a few months, with huge benefits. It wasn’t a real marriage, just a job. Why not? The pay could cover my brother's debt, and maybe even help me open my own law firm one day. And that’s how I ended up here, standing at the gates of a big mansion.

I had expected to walk into a mansion full of other women, all vying for the same position. After all, it was a wealthy family's offer. But when I stepped inside, the place felt cold and empty. Maybe I was the only one who bothered to show up. I couldn’t help but wonder why had the others turned away from an offer like this?

I took in the mansion around me tall glass walls, sleek, sharp angles, and a design that screamed billions of dollars. It felt like every inch of this place had cost a fortune, like nothing I’d ever seen before.

I was lost in the grandeur of the mansion when a sharp tap on my back jolted me back to reality.

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat as I came face to face with an older man dressed in a waiter’s jacket. His eyes met mine, and he straightened slightly.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, his voice steady, "Are you Miss Ivy Patress?"

"Yes," I said, my voice a little too eager as I nodded. "I’m Ivy Patress. Here for the... job." I almost stumbled over the words, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation.

He gave a small nod and gestured for me to follow him. I trailed behind, my footsteps echoing on the polished floors, the silence between us felt heavier with every step.

As we walked through the main door, my eyes couldn’t take in the sheer scale of the place. The high ceilings, the gleaming marble floors everything screamed wealth. I had only ever seen places like this in magazines.

We entered a room, and the waiter closed the door behind me. Two older figures sat across the room, dressed in elegant attire. Their gaze was steady, and I could tell right away they were the ones who owned this place.

I nodded and greeted them politely, but their eyes barely lifted from their papers in front of them. They gave me the kind of acknowledgment you'd give to a passing stranger ≠brief, distant and uninterested.

"Miss Ivy, you applied for the hired bride position?" The woman’s voice was calm, but her eyes never left the papers in front of her.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, my voice a little quieter than I meant.

She gave a short nod and gestured toward the papers in front of her for me to sign. I reached forward, trying to steady my nerves as my hand hovered over the pen. Without another word, she waited. The silence stretched, thick with expectation.

"Congratulations," the father said, taking the papers from me with a quick motion. "You are officially our son's new hired wife."

I blinked, trying to process the words. They handed me the contract before I could even glance through it properly. My fingers tingled, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. What had I just signed up for?

"They are rules you must adhere to, Miss Ivy," she continued, her voice cold and mechanical. "You’re just a hired wife to him. Nothing more.

I shifted uncomfortably, my stomach tightening.

"Stay away from him. Don’t expect anything more from him. When the time comes, you’ll take your pay and leave. That's all."

Her words hung in the air, like a weight I couldn’t shake off.

"You’ll stay in his house after marriage, just to treat his scars," she added, her eyes narrowing. "You won’t be bearing his children. That’s not part of the deal."

The words cut through the silence, leaving me feeling like an outsider in my own life.

Treat his scars? Who was he really? The question buzzed in my mind, unanswered, as I stared at the papers in front of me.

"Okay... ma'am," I muttered, the words feeling foreign as they left my lips. I could barely process what had just happened, let alone understand what I was walking into.

"And I trust you're aware that the fake wedding is tomorrow?" The father’s gaze sharpened. "You’ll need to play your role well in front of everyone. No slip-ups, understood?"

"Yes, sir," I managed, my voice tight. As I turned to leave, I cursed under my breath. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

A maid led me to a room for the day. My mind wandered, the question nagging at me what did the heir look like? Was he anything like his parents, or something else entirely?

I sank onto the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Tomorrow was the wedding, the fake wedding. A lie I was about to sell to a room full of strangers. My mind raced with questions, but one thing was clear—I was in too deep now. There was no turning back.

***

I was deep in sleep when something jabbed into my side, yanking me from the dreamless sleep. My eyes snapped open, heart racing. I tried to shake off the grogginess, but my body still felt heavy and disoriented. It took a moment before I registered the source of the disturbance.

I blinked, still groggy from sleep, as I stared up at the man standing over me. He was tall, with messy dark hair and tattoos running across his arms. A scar cut across his face, adding to his intimidating look. His expression was a mix of confusion and irritation.

"Who the fuck are you? And why are you in my room?" he snapped, his voice sharp and demanding.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, still trying to shake off the sleep. My confusion morphed into frustration.

"And who the hell do you think you are?" I shot back, my voice a little sharper than I intended.

His voice was cold and sharp, as if the room itself belonged to him. "This is my room. You don't have the right to question me."

I snapped back, feeling my frustration rise. "I didn’t know it was yours, so stop shouting at me!"

He pointed to the door, his voice sharp. "Get out."

I crossed my arms, standing my ground. "I’m not going anywhere. You need to learn how to treat visitors right."

"Fine. I don't argue with poor gold diggers like you," he muttered rudely, walking out of the room. I stared after him, still unsure of who he was. But there was no way he was the heir. He looked more like a thug than a billionaire's son.